


Unexpected Comfort

by Ralkana



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Director Coulson is sick and miserable and missing his husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For Aly, who's sick and miserable and requested fic with cuddles. I hope this suffices, honey, and that you feel better soon.
> 
> **Very vague spoilers for the current arc of Agents of SHIELD.**

 

Phil trudges into his quarters at base and shuts the door behind himself, toeing off his shoes and stripping off his tie. He changes lethargically into a t-shirt and sweatpants, fumbling his way into bed and pulling the covers over his head with a groan.

He feels terrible. For once, it's not the insects-crawling-under-his-skin, limb-twitching compulsion to carve that he feels like he's been fighting forever now. This is the heavy-limbed, foggy-headed, achy-joint misery of what he's hoping is a terrible cold rather than the onset of flu. The last thing they need is for flu to sweep through their meager ranks.

Phil remembers Clint shuffling around their apartment whenever he felt bad, sniffling and coughing and muttering about contracting the Martian Death Flu. The joke isn't quite so funny anymore, but the memory brings a pang of longing that Phil can't quite push down, as sick as he feels. Burying his head in his pillows, he bites back a sad whine, sick and missing his husband.

His phone beeps with a text message alert, and Phil groans. He's so tempted to ignore it, but he's the Director of SHIELD. Ignoring it is not an option, no matter how much his hand shakes as he reaches for his phone and tugs it back under the blanket with him.

_Feeling better?_

Beneath the mound of blankets, Phil smiles weakly. The text from Clint makes him feel a little better -- at least it does before the wave of loneliness crashes over him.

_No_ , he sends back, resisting the urge to add a sad face. Clint does it for him.

_:( Awww, Phil, no. Flu?_

Phil sighs, regretting it when it makes his head ache. _I'm hoping not, but I'm afraid so._

There's a flurry of knocks on his door, a familiar pattern that is the last thing he expects to hear -- morse code for CFB. Before he can untangle himself from the blankets, there's the sound of a key in the lock, and his door eases open.

"Well, then, it's a good thing I'm here," Clint says, smiling at him from the doorway.

Phil stares, not sure that he isn't a hallucination brought on by whatever bug Phil's fighting.

Clint's smile shifts into something softer, fonder. "Look at you," he says softly, shutting the door and crossing the room toward where Phil is sitting up in bed, bewildered. Clint reaches out to smooth down Phil's hair where it's been rumpled from hiding under the covers. Phil closes his eyes, leaning into the touch.

Sitting down next to him, Clint pulls him close, and Phil goes easily, cuddling into Clint's strong chest. He cuddles tiredly against his husband, ignoring the jostling that occurs as Clint toes off his shoes and kicks them away. There's a soft bang as one of them hits the wall across from the bed, and Phil frowns but doesn't open his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he croaks.

Clint brushes a kiss along his temple, and Phil can feel his smile. "There's no one on this base who's prepared to deal with a sick, grumpy Phil Coulson. Believe me, I know."

Phil pushes weakly against Clint's chest, but Clint only tightens his hold. "Don't, you'll get sick."

"Ask me if I care. Come on, now, lie down."

Clint manhandles him around and Phil goes easily until they're both lying under the blankets, Clint on his back, Phil curled into his chest.

"God, you're like a furnace," Clint says, arms tightening around Phil, his lips on Phil's forehead.

"Sorry," Phil says, trying to pull away, but Clint won't let him.

"Don't. Don't do that, I didn't say I minded," Clint says, tightening his hold even more. "It's cold out there, you know. A little sweaty cuddling is exactly what I need."

"I still don't understand what you're doing here."

Clint sighs. "Look. I know you don't want me here while you're dealing with... everything you're dealing with. You're the director now, and I've followed your orders because I know you think I'm useful doing other things. I mostly agree with you. But I don't think you realize how hard it is for me not to be here, and I'm not going to sit in Stark's tower with my thumb up my ass when you're sending me texts and trying not to sound miserable and pretending you don't miss me as much as I miss you. Tony and Nat and Cap can keep each other company for a few days until you're feeling better. Now shut up and go to sleep."

"I'm not the one babbling," Phil says grumpily, and Clint laughs.

"There's the sweet talk I've missed so much."

Phil knows he should argue more, send Clint away -- what's happening to him scares him, and he doesn't want Clint anywhere near it -- but he's miserable and achy and he's missed Clint's scent and the feel of Clint's arms around him _so much_ , and he can't bring himself to do so. He finds himself cuddling closer, instead.

"We're going to argue about this tomorrow," he mutters.

"Yes, dear," Clint says wryly, stroking fingertips down Phil's arm. That and the even, steady beat of Clint's heart lull Phil into an exhausted sleep.

**END**


End file.
